I changed the name of this unpublished blog, now formerly (un)known as Migaland. While the name is no longer Argentina-specific (more on this below), it is still indubitably related.
The name was born when I was still living in Argentina, which I did, reluctantly for 12 years and then ferociously for 3 more. In the last while I’ve inadvertently moved again, this time to Uruguay. I say again, as my initial relocation to Buenos Aires was “spontaneous” in a euphemistic light, which translates more realistically into “a nose-dive into chaos for which i was highly unprepared”.
Put simply, Migaland was to be a collection of crumbs left on the table of an expat life in Buenos Aires, riddled with absurdity and the common phrase “es lo que hay.” A term synonymous with much of the struggle that defines daily existence there, it loosely translates to “here’s a penny for your quarter, go buy a miga sandwich.”
In Argentina, the miga sandwich is a pillar of quotidian cuisine. Take two pieces of un-toasted white bread, cut off the crust and put ham & cheese in the middle. You can layer it if you like. And slap on butter. Which, splooging out the sides, looks like mayo. Or could be. Take your chances.
The traditional version and the many variants on the theme constitute a good portion of the offerings of the majority of local delis, bakeries, bars and restaurants. Variants include cheese & tomato, ham & tomato, ham & cheese & tomato, ham & corn, ham & egg, some but not all of these versions toasted. Rest assured, there are 11 more pages of permutations and combinations on any menu worthy of your pesos. This should give you substantial insight on the general situation.
As follows, one comes by miga like ants on your rose-bush, or cockroaches in your bathroom. Often, and unfortunately (for the gluten intolerant). Technically speaking, miga is a crumb, or the soft center of bread. The part that grosses some kids out and spins others into a hysterical rage, and that still others (uninformed) prefer.
Figuratively however, we can say it’s “substance”: the essence, core, basis of a matter, or less formally, the nitty-gritty.
As you thus see (or don’t, but are being told in a self-assured manner — another cultural trademark which I am trying to employ more frequently), miga is synonymous with daily survival in this great land of nitty-gritty and here I have recorded my attempts (unanimously unsuccessful) at such. While I will never pass for Argentine, I have acquired quite a substantial education in what it means to try to do things on the banks of the River Plate (plate meaning silver, not dish), and so I encourage you to follow the trail of miga I’ve left behind getting them done.
This site was meant to be the best I could do to stuff fifteen years of expat experience in Buenos Aires into a double-decker story sandwich with no sharp edges or crust that gets caught in your teeth. A slightly more gourmet take on the traditional recipe of resignation and mediocrity. The base layer is my thinly sliced entrepreneurial spirit, blanketed with improbable situations and remarkable twists, and dressed with some it’s-okay-aioli to make it go down a little easier. The second layer is really more of the same, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that the same tastes different every time.
*Fair warning: this sandwich is only fit for gluttons for punishment. Overeating could make you feel ill at heart. Consider having a plane ticket to Switzerland on hand.